


It's Boring

by Konfessor2U



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Daddy Kink, Fingerfucking, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, That just sort of happened, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konfessor2U/pseuds/Konfessor2U
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't you think that it's boring how people talk"</p><p>-Lorde, <i>Tennis Court</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't really a song fic but every time I hear the opening to this song, I think of them, and I had to do something about it.

“It’s boring.” John said finally, lowering the Sunday paper down into his lap and breaking the silence that stretched comfortably between him and his flat mate.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, obviously interested. When John offered nothing else, Sherlock prompted him and briefly abandoned the glass slide sitting on the stage of his Nikkon microscope. “What is?”

“How people talk.” John had now turned his body around in his chair to get a look at the detective who resumed his study of bacteria from a swab of the door knob to the morgue.

“They do little else, John.” John grunted his agreement and Sherlock looked up again. “Does it bother you then?”

John scoffed as he got up from his chair and folded the paper neatly, only to toss it into the fireplace to be burnt later that night. “No.” He thought about all the times that Lestrade and Donovan made friendly jokes about them being a couple. He thought about their first night together and how Angelo just assumed that he was Sherlock's boyfriend and put a candle on the table. He had denied it wholeheartedly at first, which may have only served to push the issue further, but now it no longer mattered.

Grinning, John went to stand behind Sherlock still working at the table. “Not at all. It’s a bit funny actually, that they are so sure they’ve got it. I guess, in a way, they do.” He ran one hand up into Sherlock’s curls thoughtfully, exposing the soft skin of his neck. Placing a single gentle kiss there, he enjoyed the tiny shiver that Sherlock failed to hide. Despite the new attention, he did not let himself be too distracted by John but didn’t ignore him completely.

“I thought at first that you meant that _it_ was boring,” Sherlock admitted with a huff.

John nuzzled at the back of his flat mate’s neck, breathing in Sherlock’s scent. He loved the smell of his skin, and he imagined that he would be able to pick Sherlock out of a group of people blindfolded if he were just able to smell his neck.

“Nothing we do is boring, baby. We’ll just let them talk, even though they’ve got better things to do.” John nipped at the skin under his lips. Sherlock groaned and dropped his head back against John, who took the opportunity to lave attention to the exposed skin of his throat. “They can guess and assume we are together all they want, but they’ll never really know what we are up to, will they, baby?”

“No, daddy." Sherlock panted breathlessly, bacteria and microscope now completely forgotten. "I’ll never tell anyone. I’ll be your good little boy.”

John was unable to hold back the devilish grin brought on by hearing those words fall from Sherlock’s filthy mouth. “Mmm, so well behaved.” He rewarded his good little boy with a healthy bite into the side of his neck, sucking on it to bring blood to the surface and leaving a lovely, deep red mark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sees daddy masturbating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here the rating goes from T to E.
> 
> Enjoy.

It would not have mattered if he had locked his bedroom door, John knew Sherlock would come in if he really wanted to. 

He vaguely recalled that Sherlock told him this morning that he would be home around this time, but as he slipped his palm over the sensitive head of his cock, he promptly forgot anything and everything that wasn’t directly related to his desperate search for release.

He lay on his side, thrusting forward into his fist with three fingers of his other hand buried deep in his arse. Already he could feel the building tension of his orgasm and he groaned, slowing down just a bit. Finishing too quickly without properly enjoying himself was always a great disappointment, one he would always try to avoid.

John might have heard Sherlock come in the front door and climb the stairs to his room if he had not been moaning so loudly. His eyes were closed, so John remained unaware of Sherlock's presence until the man spoke, and when he did speak, it was nothing like his normal, deep, rumbling tone.

As innocent as ever and pitched higher than normal, Sherlock interrupted. “Daddy, what are you doing?”

John’s hips stuttered in their rhythm. “Sherlock,” he gasped, eyes now locked on his detective’s. If he thought that he was close to release before, he was wrong. With Sherlock’s dark eyes watching him fuck himself on his fingers, he was just a few heartbeats away from spilling over. He slowed his stroking even more to buy himself some time.

“What are you doing?” Leave it to Sherlock to never, ever let it go. He took a few steps into the room and planted himself halfway to the bed, eyes trained on where John’s fingers were disappearing into his body.

“Uh… Just something to make me feel better, baby.” The words came out disjointed and jerky, but rather quiet and breathy.

“Can I watch you, daddy?”

_Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes._ John nodded his head and renewed his efforts, fucking into his hand faster, and twisting his fingers in deeper.

“Does that feel good, it looks like it hurts.” Sherlock's face was scrunched up in a mix of disgust, confusion and concern, and he was innocently peering over John’s body to get a better angle of him finger fucking his arse.

“No baby, it doesn’t hurt. I promise I’m, aaaaahhh, I’m okay.”

John arched his back and closed his eyes as he gently grazed over his prostate, milking out a large bead of precum. Smearing it around the head of his cock, he relished in the renewed sweet slide of his hand over his hot, hard flesh, pumping more vigorously now.

When he looked back at Sherlock, he could see the gears turning in his head. He could see him cataloging every single move that he made as he paired it with every response, no matter how slight it was.  Knowing that he was on display, naked and writhing, for his naughty little boy pushed him over the edge and he was coming hard and fast all over his hand and stomach.

John lay back into the mattress completely relaxed, and feeling quite boneless. Sherlock was gone from the room when he opened his eyes, and he waited just a few more minutes to collect himself before going after him. He needed to make sure his baby was not traumatised, even if he wasn't, John was sure that he had many questions.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was probably the only person in the world, save for Mycroft, that could tell when Sherlock was acting and when he was being genuine. Even then, it was hard to tell sometimes.

As soon as John came home and shut the door behind him, he heard heart wrenching sobs coming from their flat upstairs. At first, his heart dropped at hearing Sherlock so distraught and he ran up the stairs, skipping two at a time despite his short stride.

The cries stopped briefly as John paused on the landing and his mouth quirked into a devilish smile. Sherlock had heard him and if he knew anything about his flatmate and lover, he would resume with renewed fervor. If Sherlock wanted a scene and he was more than happy to accommodate him. 

He stood stock still, waiting to hear him again. He didn't have to wait long before he heard quiet sniffles and desperate whines coming from their bedroom down the hallway.

John shook himself and started down the hall. Reminding himself that Sherlock was only acting, that this was just a game that they play, did nothing to stop that empty, nauseous feeling he got when Sherlock was actually hurting and upset. He silently cursed the detective for having such an effect on his emotions. John understood that for both of them the Daddy/Baby thing is an essential part of who they are and although it may not show itself like that when they are out in public, Sherlock is very much dependent on John for many things. The basis of their relationship is real, even if what they get up to in the bedroom is just an act.

As he opened the door, he held his breath which he quickly released at the sight before him. Sherlock was on their bed with his arse high in the air, balancing himself on his shoulders with his face turned toward John.  He couldn't see from his position at the door but it looked like Sherlock was trying to impale himself on his fingers.

His normally pale, flawless skin was red and blotchy, his face was wet from crying and now tears were flowing freely, if not harder than they were before John came in. The sheet under his head was completely soaked through with a large wet spot telling John just how long Sherlock had been up to this.

Their eyes met for a moment and Sherlock sniffled wetly. “Daddy?”

John snapped out of it and immediately rushed to his side. “What is it? Tell Daddy what’s wrong.” Sherlock whimpered pathetically and John ran a comforting hand down Sherlock’s spine and joined it with Sherlock’s hand that was attempting to finger himself open. Right away John knew what was wrong. Sherlock hadn't successfully managed to get even just a finger in, his hands and arse were completely dry.

“No, no, no, no, Baby, what are you doing?”  John gently pulled Sherlock’s hands away and guided him to roll over onto his side. This renewed a bout of crying and he crawled in bed behind him to hold him close. John petted his hair and whispered in his ear that it would be alright, which helped reduce the wracking sobs to quiet huffs. When Sherlock was finally still, John propped himself up on an elbow.

“What were you trying to do, Baby?”

Sherlock whined but John assured him that he could tell him anything.

“I saw you do it to yourself the other day, you know, when I walked in on you touching yourself. I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again. I just wanted to see what it would feel like, Daddy.” John smiled down at Sherlock.

“You could have just asked me.” Sherlock blushed and turned his face away. “Are you embarrassed to ask?” Sherlock nodded. “Do you want me to help you with it?” Another nod and a tiny smile from Sherlock set John in motion.

Stripping out of his clothes, he retrieved the lube from the bedside table before settling on his knees next to Sherlock. “Lie on your back for Daddy.” Sherlock complied, but lay awkwardly with his legs twisted and closed tightly. “Come on, Baby. If you want me to help you, you need to relax. Open these up for me.” He gave Sherlock’s thighs a light tap and then he shifted between them when they spread wide for him.

“B-b-but it hurt so much before.” Sherlock’s voice was now trembling, and so was his ridiculously full bottom lip. It nearly tore John’s heart from his chest

“Shhhh, Baby, calm down. You were doing it wrong. I’ll show you, I promise. Just please relax.” John’s hands ran calming strokes up and down Sherlock’s thighs and within a few moments he could feel him relaxing under him, sinking into the mattress with each pass of John’s hands.

While continuing to rub mindless patterns on one leg, John silently thanked Sherlock for buying the lube container with the pump on top as it made using one hand a breeze. As he moved his slick fingers between his legs, Sherlock squirmed a little.

“Relax, Daddy is going to make you feel so good.” As he spoke quietly, his fingers traced around Sherlock’s tight entrance, pressing lightly to encourage the rings of muscle to let him in. “How does this feel?”

“Oh, Daddy. It’s feels so good. So wet.” Sherlock sighed breathily as John slid a finger into him, twisting it as he pulled it out again agonizingly slow. It wouldn't last long, he figured that Sherlock had been there working himself up for the better part of the afternoon.

A second finger joined the first, gliding easily until John’s fingers were as deep into Sherlock as they could go. “Look at you, so greedy for Daddy. I bet you wanted this all along, for me to just fuck you with my fingers and watch you come apart.”

“Yes.” It was all Sherlock could manage as John took him in hand, expertly working his foreskin over the flushed head of his cock.

John added a third finger as he bent to lick at a bead of precum forming from his slit. He hummed happily, enjoying both the taste and the desperate gasp from Sherlock, who was starting to get close. John could feel the man’s whole body lengthen, his back arch, and his arse tighten around him. Sherlock was still, body frozen and coiled tightly like a spring, his beautiful lips formed in an “O” shape.

“Come on, Baby, come for Daddy. Show me how much you love my fingers in your arse. Yes, yes, yes.” Each word was punctuated with a sharp thrust of his fingers into Sherlock, the soft padded tips dragging over his sensitized prostate.

Sherlock came, spurting thick, hot ropes across his abdomen, accompanied only by a few quiet grunts.

“Baby, that was perfect. You are so perfect.” Sherlock whined petulantly as John pulled his fingers from him and stretched up to kiss him slowly. They tangled tongues for a few minutes, prolonging their separation to clean up.

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock whispered against his lover’s lips.

“Of course, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on  Tumblr. Thanks dolls!


End file.
